


Peace doesn'T alwayS follow a solDier home

by Pineprin137



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Bisexual Male Character, Divorce, F/M, Flashbacks, Gay Male Character, M/M, Military, Military Background, Military Training, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 17:50:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137
Summary: Staff Sergeant Jeremiah Wilson made it back in one piece, but the memories of his fallen brothers won't let him come home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEED THE TAGS! 
> 
> This contains graphic violence and detailed descriptions of PTSD. If you may be triggered by any of this, please don't read. 
> 
> The first chapter is from an outsider's point of view. Chapter 2 is where Jay's story begins.

Alyssa Martin has no qualms about being labeled nosy. Having four children means that she spends a great deal of time waiting outside of the two schools her children attend, and she gets bored easily. She doesn’t see the harm in rolling the window down a bit to catch what the couple in the Mercedes two cars back are arguing about. Honestly! Who cares if she keeps track of who does what whilst stuck in the parent pick-up line? Actually, Maisie Parks, the most judgmental of all the after-school parents, should be thanking her instead of rolling her eyes. If anyone ever tries to kidnap one of the children or, heaven forbid, get away with cutting in line, Alyssa will be a very valuable witness. 

Today is Wednesday, which means that Elenor’s dad is first in line even though his little girl always comes out last. The Johnson twins’ mother drives her husband’s truck instead of the green van, and Mrs. Macgregor brought the family dog with her so he can greet Thomas when the young boy gets in the car. 

The Martin’s van is sixth in the line of cars parked against the curb, like always. Alyssa likes her position in the middle because she can see the action in front of her, Elenor’s father likes to flirt with the high-school aged traffic guard even though he and Elenor’s mom are only separated, yet also utilize her mirrors to check on the latecomers behind her. 

Monday-thru-Friday parent pick-up runs like a well-oiled machine. Each vehicle knows its place and every parent abides by the unspoken rules. But today, there is something out of place, an extra part that will inevitably jam up the works. There is a cherry red Mustang where Kelly Waterman’s white sedan should be. As if the flashy car isn’t unsettling enough, the man leaning against it makes Alyssa uneasy. She bends down to hide her purse and locks the doors. 

Not only does the outcast  _ look _ like a criminal, but he has the audacity to smoke! Alyssa recoils as he takes a drag from his lit cigarette and checks his watch...again. It is only the twentieth time in the last five minutes. Good grief, she thinks, it seems Mr. Tall Dark and Dangerous has never had to wait on a kid before. Alyssa rolls her eyes. Some people are just not made to be parents. 

The mystery man has definitely mastered the ‘bad boy’ look. He doesn’t seem like Kelly’s type at all. Yes, Alyssa keeps track of the single mother’s love interests. Someone has to watch out for Kelly’s little girl! Her young mother goes through men like the Martins'  go through their clean laundry. Ms. Waterman is a five-foot-three blonde airhead who prefers stilettos over sneakers and thigh-high skirts with low cut tops. The guy leaning against the Mustang just seems a little...grunge for her taste. Kelly flaunts all the finer things the numerous men in her life give her and the fanciest thing about Mr. TD&D is his car. 

His clothes are faded yet thankfully clean, his silver watch is dull and tarnished, and the boots on his feet are stained. Alyssa squints at them for only a moment before leaning back. She isn’t sure she wants to know what ruined the scuffed boots. The man’s dark hair is slightly greasy and Alyssa shudders as he pushes a hand through it and then reaches down to wipe the slick residue on his jeans. 

Alyssa grimaces when he puts his lips on the filter and breathes deeply before flicking it onto the asphalt and then grinding it out with the toe of one dirty boot. Alyssa watches, mesmerized and slightly disgusted, as the smoke billows out of his nostrils while he forces his hand into the front pocket of his black jeans. She gulps and averts her eyes, blushing. She is a married woman after all! And those jeans are beyond too tight. Surely there is some law about the appropriate tightness of a well-endowed man’s jeans. It is amazing he can actually fit his hand in there with that...that...bulge! 

While Alyssa fans herself, he pulls out a black phone. He answers it and then almost blinds her when he turns his head. Something on his hand caught the sunlight and she leans forward in her seat to find out what. Alyssa can just make out two simple gunmetal-grey, she can’t possibly consider them ‘silver’ at this point,  bands on his left hand. One on his pointer finger and a slightly skinnier one on his ring finger. Surely Kelly hasn’t married  _ him _ ! Alyssa is just starting to analyze the tattoo she sees snaking under his long-sleeved tee when the back door slides open and her two oldest, John and Logan, climb in. 

“Hi, mom!” 

“Ugh, mo-om,   _ please _ tell me you’re not spying on the other parents again!” 

“Hi, honey, how was school? And Johnathan Alexander, you watch your mouth!  I do not  _ spy _ , I simply observe my surroundings.”

“Well, can you please stop  _ observing _ Gemma’s dad so closely? It’s super creepy.” Gemma’s dad? No way. The smoking, tattooed, all-clad-in-black, dark-haired man is the absentee father Kelly never talks about?! 


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, things get a little tense in this chapter. Fair warning for PTSD imagery. 
> 
> Please note: Italics are Jay's internal thoughts, while the italicized quotes are the things he isn't really aware of, but his subconscious is still picking up. In this case, the observations from the parents and children who witness what happens are just background noise to him.

Jay tries to settle his nerves with another hit of nicotine and glances down at his watch. Both are habits he is still trying to break. His therapist told him not to worry too much, ‘It takes time to readjust to civilian life.’ He snorts, civilian life. Like Jay will ever be able to pass as just another guy while walking on the street. Please. Even though he hasn’t cut his dark hair since he got back and his tongue has been re-pierced, the tattoo on his forearm still shouts ‘Military’. He takes another drag, pushes a hand through his hair. Ugh. Jay hadn’t felt self-conscious about day-three hair while in the field, but now it feels as though everyone he passes by is judging his obvious lack of basic hygiene. 

He tucks his thumb against his palm and calms a little when he rubs the smooth metal band on his ring finger. God, what would he do without Evan? His husband has been nothing but supportive since Staff Sergeant Jeremiah Wilson got medically discharged six weeks ago after an IED explosion killed five of his men and left the remaining three in intensive care. Evan took Jay’s post-traumatic stress disorder diagnosis in stride and helped to establish their new daily routine. A routine that now includes Wednesday, Thursday, Friday pick up at William B. Parker Elementary School. 

Jay is happy to be able to see his daughter more often, but it’s also nerve-wracking to be around her while he’s readjusting to civilian life. His PTSD isn’t really under control yet and the smallest things can set him off. So far, nothing has happened the few times Gemma stayed with them, but the fear of traumatizing his six-year-old is ever present. Just thinking about what she might witness if he has an episode makes Jay feel sick. It’s one thing to punch his husband in the middle of the night while waking from a nightmare or even have Evan come home to find he’s barricaded himself in the bedroom, but for his little girl to see that? Embarrassed doesn’t even come close.  

Jay really wishes the lady in the blue van would quit watching him, it’s making him itch. He pulls as much smoke into his lungs as he can, then grinds the butt into the asphalt with his boot. The vibration from his pocket startles him and the smoke billows out of his nostrils. Hay rolls his eyes.  _ Bet that was attractive _ . He shakes his head and struggles to pull his phone from the snug confines of the pocket.  _ Ugh. _ Jay absolutely hates tight jeans, he isn’t a small man by any definition, but after a slight laundry mishap two days ago, this morning he was forced to squeeze into a pair of Evan’s signature black skinny jeans. 

Jay finally digs it out and answers with a smile on his face, “Hey, Ev. Yeah, I made it. No, she hasn’t come out yet.” He turns his head away from the nosy mother still watching him-  _ seriously lady, back off _ \- and tries to focus on his husband’s voice. “Yeah, I’m sure mac n’ cheese will be fine. There're some hot dogs in the meat tray as well. Maybe we’ll even go out for ice cream aft--” He’s cut off by the bell signaling the end of the school day. 

Jay flinches at the sudden bang of heavy metal doors. His grip tightens on his phone. The scream of kids released from the confines of mandatory education doesn’t bother him, but the sound of a hundred shoes pounding down the steps and onto the sidewalk makes his heart race. It’s so similar to thick-soled combat boots advancing over packed dirt in the heat of the desert. 

“Huh? Uh, yeah--yeah I’m still here.” Evan’s voice seems even further away and he has to really focus to hear it. Jay closes his eyes and takes a deep breath attempting to ignore the slam of car doors. “No. I’m good. The noise just got to me for a sec’. Right, yeah, Ev, I remember.”

His husband isn’t trying to annoy him, he knows that. But it’s hard to have everyone question his every decision. That is the worst part of all of this. Jay still remembers being a functional member of society. He sat through firework shows and enjoyed action movies. He stood up for himself, always meant to be a leader. But now they all second guess him. They assume he can’t handle a trip to the grocery store or a thunderstorm. Just because some things bother him, bring back the memories, or remind him of his team, it doesn’t mean  _ everything _ does. 

“  _ Yes _ , I am doing the deep breathing thing. Look, the kids are out, okay? I gotta go. We’ll see you soon.” Jay hangs up without saying goodbye and simply tosses the phone onto the passenger seat instead of trying to cram it back into the jean’s pocket. 

“Daddy!” The sound of Gemma’s voice should be a relief but instead, it ratchets his anxiety up another notch. Jay barely manages a tight smile when she throws her arms around him. 

“Hey, how was school?” He wills his muscles to relax while inside he desperately wants to pry his daughter off so they can get into the car. The backseat isn’t really suitable for her since all of his stuff is still back there, but the console will provide a welcome barrier between him and the passenger seat. 

“It was okay. We mostly studied for our big test next week and…” 

A light flashes in his eyes and his daughter's voice fades into the background. _ Not an IED _ , Jay tells himself.  _ It’s fine. I’m fine _ . But then he hears another bang. He reaches for his gun and panics slightly when it isn’t there. 

_ “Daddy, what’s wrong?” _   His daughter, Gemma. Why is she here?! I have to get her somewhere safe…

_ “Sir, are you alright?” _ Who the hell is she? What are all these civilians doing here? 

_ “Daddy…?” _

 

Jay’s eyes scan for potential threats as he pulls his little girl towards the car so he can shield her with his body. His fists clench while he searches for his missing weapon and his heart races, the adrenaline kicking into gear. A bunch of people suddenly draw closer.  _ What the hell do they think they’re doing? Are those children...  _

“Get back! This area hasn’t been cleared!”

Jay advances on the crowd while keeping the scared little girl in his peripheral and finally the group of civilians starts to move back.  _ Where the hell is his gun! _ He can fight without it, but if there are snipers around, he’s toast. Someone approaches from his left side and he spins, quickly grabbing an arm and forcing it behind the man’s back and up between his shoulder blades. The combatant yelps and buckles his knees. Jay follows him down and then shoves the man’s face to the ground before checking the area for more threats. There’s no way a military operative would go down that easily which means he must be dealing with a group of insurgents.   

 

_ “Oh my god, Joseph!”  _

_ “Mr. Parks, are you alright?!”  _

_ “The hell is that guy’s problem!”  _

_ “I called 9-1-1, they’re sending someone right out!” _

 

_ “ Sir, can you hear me?” _

Jay warily eyes the woman in front of him with her hands up in the air. She doesn’t seem to be armed, but these rebels are tricky bastards. She’s also blonde, which is unusual in these parts and typically means American. Chances are she’s some political yahoo who accidentally got caught up in all of this. “Ma’am, My name is Staff Sergeant Jeremiah Wilson and I’m with the United States Armed Forces. Please stand back until we clear the area.”

“Of course, Staff Sergeant. Will you allow me to help her first?” The woman gestures towards the red car behind him and the little girl who is cowering in front of it. Jay nods and then resumes his surveillance of the area. 

“Come here, sweetheart. I’ve got you. It’s okay.” 

_ “What’s wrong with my daddy?”  _

 

Jay stills at the sound of booted steps behind him. _Shit._ He can’t take on more than ten, tops, by himself.  _ Where the hell is his team… _

“Sir, I need you to calm down.” 

Jay pushes the button on his comm device but doesn’t hear anything, not even static.  _ Dammit. Must have damaged it.  _

“Sir, I need you to put the phone down and get on your knees with your hands behind your head.”

 

_ “Why isn’t he doing what the cop said!”  _

_ “Who the hell could he be calling right now...”  _

_ “ Are-are they really gonna shoot Gemma’s dad, Mom?”  _

 

_ Too many voices. Too many people _ . Jay struggles to concentrate on the mission. There are eight handguns trained on him. Why would a bunch of rebels be carrying pistols?  The usual weapon of choice is much bigger and does a lot more damage.  _ Wait… _ Those aren’t rebels, they’re guns are police-issue. _ Corrupt police? Fuck. _ He already has his hands full with a crowd of disobedient spectators and an unknown number of hidden insurgents. Without his M16, the only chance Jay has is to let the policemen get close and rely on his hand-to-hand training.

 

_ “Mama, what are they doing?”  _

_ “Woah! Are they gonna tackle him?!”  _

_ “They're going to help your daddy. But don't look, okay? Just keep your eyes on me." _

_ “No!” _

The little girl’s cry distracts Jay and the two men sneaking up next to him tackle him to the ground. The larger of the two men has his hands restrained behind his back before he can even think about throwing a punch. The sudden restriction sends Jay into a panic and he headbutts the cop in front of him, then knees him in the stomach before kicking out towards the man’s knee. 

“Stay down! We don’t want to hurt you, but we will if you don’t stop moving!” 

_ “My goodness, it’s like an episode of COPS!”  _

_ “Woah, did you see what he did!”  _

 

“Leave my daddy alone!” 

Jay registers Gemma’s voice and swivels his head to find her. His daughter’s face is tear-streaked and she has a death grip on the principal’s pencil skirt. The terrified look in his little girl’s eyes does it, all the fight leaves him. Jay doesn’t resist while the first officer hauls him up by the handcuffs snapped around his wrists. He catches a glimpse of the shorter officer’s face and winches at the damage he realizes  _ he _ inflicted, even though he doesn’t remember hitting him. The poor man is cradling his broken nose and limping close by in case ‘the assailant’ tries to flee.  _ Jesus _ , he’s an assailant now.

Frustration tears gather in Jay’s eyes.  _ Fuck _ ! He was fine until that stupid reflector on the school bus flashed the sunlight in his direction. The officer pushes his head down and gets him situated in the back seat before closing the door. Jay watches his daughter’s worried face through the window of the police car and the last thought he has before it pulls away is “ _ Shit. Elizabeth is going to kill me.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did quite a bit of research for this chapter, but if I did get something wrong, I apologize. As a civilian with no military experience, my knowledge is limited to information gained from military websites and psychological/psychiatric studies, as well as what I've seen on tv (SEAL Team, Bones, Criminal Minds, NCIS, etc.) 
> 
> I mean absolutely no disrespect to any current or past service men and women.


End file.
